


Misuse of Institute Property

by Bonymaloney



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Body Worship, Dirty Talk, Dream Sex, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Oral Sex, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strap-Ons, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 14:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonymaloney/pseuds/Bonymaloney
Summary: I decided to retrieve my fills from the Fallout Kink Meme (RIP). Mostly Nick/F!Sole, one Nick/Jenny, and a threesome with Hancock in the last chapter. It's all about the PWP. Chapters posted in the order I found them.





	1. One way to get the coolant pumping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Nick Valentine gets his sexy, synthetic self off using electronic means. Whether he plugs himself into an electrical socket somehow to get himself off, or deliberately crosses his own wires while lying in bed because it feels good - I want to see Valentine charging, zapping, or fucking coding his way to an intense orgasm, (or a few...)

"Thing is, this didn't exactly come naturally to me."

Nick immediately regretted his choice of words. The dim glow of the oil lamp, the breeze through the shack walls, the softly playing radio, it was all pretty atmospheric, but it meant nada while the audience was, frankly, snickering.

"All right, baring my soul here, but laugh it up why don'cha."

"I'm sorry." PJ composed herself ostentatiously, shifted on the sofa facing the end of the bed, and went back to watching him with her snipers gaze that sent a shiver up his spine. He settled back on his elbows with a nod, letting his open shirt fall back on his shoulders.

"When the Institute gave me the bum's rush I was so confused for a while, it took all of my energy just to figure out which way was up. Plus, being based on the brain scan of a guy with severe depression, it doesn't exactly do wonders for the libido. But after a while, I found my feet, and then I guess I got lonely, and curious. So I just, uh, one day decided to give the old wires a tug." 

Despite his lack of red blood cells, his face felt hot, and he looked away as he said it. It wasn't that he didn't like to be watched, in fact he liked the thought of it very much, but it was still sometimes a little hard to believe that the way he looked could be considered attractive by some people. When he looked back, though, the crazy dame opposite was sitting forward, a flush evident on her own cheeks. Her voice was husky.

"Show me how it works, Nick."

"Hmm..." He idly began stroking his chest, enjoying the cold metal of his hand in the warm night air, as he tried to figure out how exactly to put his thoughts into words. The old Nick (he no longer thought of him as the Real Nick, not since Winter) had been sharply dressed smart mouthed swagger in the streets, nipple play, face sitting, and that one weird fantasy where bad guys kidnapped him and did stuff to his butt in the sheets; and he guessed that was still a lot of his sexual makeup, based on what he fantasised about when he was touching himself. 

The mechanism though, the actual touching, how to explain that? Especially when the thought of talking about it in front of her was stimulating to the point of distraction in its own right. His hand was alternating caressing with pinching now, as his fingers crept ever closer to the join between the anterior and posterior plates that made up his torso.

Damn, he missed his nipples.

"The way I figured, they made synths feel pain so we knew to avoid things that would damage us. Same as humans I suppose. So if damage makes us feel bad, then getting fixed up would feel pretty good. And I was right"

"Good work, Detective. So you just..?"

Nick's voice grew rougher, as embarrassment mingled with arousal. His chest and throat felt as though they were glowing now, along with his face. "I just unhook wires and plug 'em back in again, yeah, but there's more to it than that. The ghost and the machine have to be on the same page." His fingers ran up ad down the seam between his plates before he thrust them through with a sharp gasp, crooking them, flexing at roughly the base of his ribcage. "I'm thinking of fingers, long strong fingers with nails painted red as sin, filling me... stretching me wide open..." 

He found the first wire and grimaced as he pulled it out. "Tugging on them is like mouths, all over me, sucking... then when I pull them out it's like biting, pinching. It hurts when they come out, but I tell myself I'm misusing Institute property, it kinda makes it hotter..."

His eyes had fallen shut, but he opened them to check wasn't horrified, or worse, laughing, but PJ was rapt, eyes wide and biting quite unconsciously on her little finger. He held her gaze as he delicately unhooked the next few wires, groaning softly as the pleasure-pain crept lower and lower. His voice came out low and husky.

"Sometimes... sometimes I imagine I'm being hooked up to some sort of machine. There's people watching me, scientist I guess, and I know they're going to do something with the machine and I'm going to come in front of them, just naked and helpless and I can't stop coming." The fingers of his good hand still worked busily inside him, while the other ghosted over, around and inside the tears of his neck. "The inside of my skin is really sensitive. Don't know why... Anyway, now I'm... ohh... I'm just programmed to fuck, and I've got you in front of me, bent over my desk, and I can't even think about anything else, I'm just fucking you over and over..."

"I think about kissing you, too." Wires all out, Nick gave himself respite, panting and stretching languidly as he stroked himself face, throat and belly with his free hand. "Think about how you feel, how you taste, how you sound when you're calling my name... oh damn..." He felt more than heard the click as connectors sat back in their sockets, the rush of information he'd previously been denied overwhelming his senses. "Oh, I need to come..." 

With his free hand he wrenched his belt buckle open, shoving his pants down, grabbing himself between his legs and squeezing. "Your mouth is on me, between my legs, you're taking everything I'm giving you and it feel so, oh, I'm gonna, I'm gonna - " The last wire slid into place, and Nick felt the electricity all over his skin, the tense sweet ache in his belly and the base of his spine rising to a crescendo then bursting and dispersing, leaving him glowing and satisfied.

Sighing with contentment, Nick made room in the bed for a very flustered looking PJ.

"You alright?"

"You've got a real filthy mouth on you, you know that, Detective?"

"It's the company I've been keeping."

"I'd like to meet Nick the Fuck Machine sometime."

"Play your cards right and I'll introduce you. It needs an office desk for the full effect though."

"Would a workbench do the trick?"

"Guess there's only one way to find out."


	2. Pistol Packin' Mama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Pegging of any character, by any character, any game any time any where. Pegging is awesome.

Nick's knees were sore from the hard floor beneath them, his shoulders ached from the way he was bound, but he barely felt it. Too distracted by the thought of what was gonna come come through the door. He shifted, and peered around as if he might be able to see through the rough scarf that covered his eyes. He'd taken a few beatings before in his line of work, but this... this could be a whole new ball game.

The voice was familiar, but somehow different. Stern and amused.

"Detective Valentine. Looks like you're in a whole heap of trouble."

He tried for a sneer of defiance, but couldn't help the thrill of excitement that shot through him, and it came out more of a laugh.

"You think this is funny?" A hand on the nape of his neck, running up through the short curls there before tugging sharply. "We'll see if you're laughing later."

"I ain't gonna talk, punk. Do your worst."

Pressure of a body behind him, and hands moved to his belt buckle.

("This ok Nicky?"

"Oh God yeah. Actually... maybe under my knees?"

Movement, and then Jenny was tucking a pillow or a cushion or something under him.

"Can I see you?"

He heard her moving away, then felt her cool hand on the blindfold.

He was kneeling beside the bed, and Jenny stood over him, wearing an elegant blouse and one of his hats. He moved his gaze lower and there it was. He felt his mouth go dry. The harness was black, glossy but not shiny. Classy, like her. And attached to the front...

It was a little smaller than his own, that was the one thing he'd asked her for, but it still looked plenty big from this angle. Excitement and a little fear warred within him, sending delicious tension down his spine and coiling in his belly...)

"That's enough of that." she was stern again. She grabbed a handful of his hair again, and forced him forward, face pressing into the mattress, bare ass poking out.

"Nicky Valentine. Look at you. Hard as a rock and I haven't even touched you yet. Wonder what the boys at the precinct would think of this..."

He grit his teeth and groaned, cheeks flushed but cock throbbing.

"Still not gonna talk?" He shook his head. "Let's see if I can't loosen you up a bit..."

Her lubed up finger felt freezing cold when she first brushed his asshole, burning hot as she pushed inside him. He moaned, helpless, skin between his shoulderblades crawling. 

"Ready for another?" He could only nod, desperately trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Electricity shot up his spine as she added another finger. He groaned and clenched his fists.

("Relax, Nicky. Breathe. Need me to stop?"

"Oh God no," he managed to croak.)

He took deep huffing breaths, forcing himself to relax and let her take him over, flexing and scissoring her fingers.

"Two fingers in your ass and you're desperate for more, aren't you? You know, even if you did tell me where the... diamonds... are, I think I'd still wanna have my way with you."

("Diamonds?!" He giggled, semi-hysterical. "What kind of cop do you think I am? A pirate or something?"

"You didn't tell me why I was actually interrogating you!" Jenny hissed back. "Anyway, I'm putting it in now. That ok?"

"Gimme everything you got, doll.")

"That's big talk, Valentine. You won't be talking so smart once I'm through with you..."

He felt more cold oil pouring over his tender hole, then the pressure of something blunt and hard.

Nick groaned and grit his teeth, tendons in his neck standing out like cords. There was pressure... pressure... then he felt a give, and oh God, she was inside him. There was stretch and heat, and it hurt a little but it felt oh so good. One hand griped his hip, the other kept his face forced down as she eased forward and forward, until she was fully inside him. His tongue felt thick and wet, his throat and chest burned. Over whelmed with the feeling of sheer fullness, he could only moan helplessly as she began to move.

"Can't believe... can't believe I'm doing this," he grunted. 

"You look so good, so good Nicky, and you're taking it so well..."

It felt as though there was a hot golden rope tied around his belly, his balls and the tops of his thighs, and with her every thrust it grew tighter and more pleasurable. His cock felt full of lead. It was impossible to think of anything else while he was being fucked like this, and that was the greatest pleasure of all. No worrying about how much overtime he was going to need to make rent and groceries this month. No thinking about China and the bombs. No Eddie goddamn Winter. Just his head full of a blissful red cloud, and the sweet friction and the heat...

Jenny shifted a little and rocked her hips forward, and he hit a note he hadn't managed since he was in the boys' choir.

"Oh, he liked that," she said teasingly, and did it again. It was white-hot electric yes, shooting up his spine every time she hit that sweet spot within him. His cock was aching, dripping down his thigh, and he squirmed, desperate for release, but his hands were still cuffed behind him.

"Oh... oh please," he moaned.

"What was that about those diamonds?"

"Please, Jenny!"

Her hand wrapped around him then, and he felt simultaneously engulfed and impaled, and he yelled and yelled as he came so hard he thought he might turn himself inside out.

When he came back to himself he was sprawled over the bed, achy hands now free, gasping and sweaty and utterly blissed out. He groaned as he crawled under the cover. Jenny stroked his hair gently, gave him water to sip.

He fell asleep with his head in her lap.


	3. Whole Lot of Shakin' goin On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: After they respect/care about each other, but before admitting any kinds of feelings, f!Sole and Nick somehow get stuck in some situation alone where she needs to sit on his lap.
> 
> The problem is, he vibrates. He has a lot of old, rattling mechanical parts, it's a thing. Sole gets turned on but tries to hide it in increasing discomfort, until he notices. At first they both feel terrible that they're making the each uncomfortable, but when they realize she's enjoying it and he doesn't mind, he encourages her to go ahead and get off on him, and she does.
> 
> Bonus for angst after: he assumes it was a purely physical sensation, not that she's actually into HIM as a person, which she makes sure to correct.

Nick breathed a figurative sigh of relief when he saw the tent.

He was cold, short-tempered and worried about his sealants, but he knew it was nothing on the way PJ had to be feeling. Humans didn't do well in soaking wet clothes, especially not humans who had been on their feet for at least 16 hours, and who had started the day by pulling their own dislocated finger back into place.

She put herself through a lot, the dame with the pre-war accent, pushed herself hard, and it had only gotten worse since she'd returned from the Institute. She'd told him what she'd learned, over far too much bourbon in the Third Rail, and what the Railroad were asking of her. He figured maybe she was trying to distract herself by throwing herself into work, and if anyone could understand that it was Nick Valentine. But he hated the thought of it being less of a distraction than a punishment. Hell, he'd been there, too, and it never helped.

He'd suggested she help him out on the Nakano case, thinking it would be a break from the Commonwealth, maybe an opportunity to slow down a bit. Big mistake, Nicky.

The tent had to be in a well sheltered spot to have lasted this long. 

"Hey, looks like an old camp ground."

She turned her attention to the tent, with its few storage crates and blackened fire pit.

"Good spot, Valentine. If the tent lasted this long, maybe the supplies did too."

"Well, so long as you're carrying it," he mock-grumbled, but smiled as she began to make her way up the slope towards the little shelter. Nick couldn't give a fig for the supplies, just wanted her warm and out of the rain. Still, it was a start.

They looted a few rounds of hunting ammo, then stood side by side, staring reflectively at the rain. She opened a bottle of Vim and poured it into a Far Harbor souvenir mug.

"You've really taken a liking to this place, huh?"

"I have no idea why, but... yeah. I guess I have. Made me rethink a lot of things."

"Well, don't let that jerk with his big telescope get to ya."

She snorted, half exasperated, half with amusement. He turned with a smug grin on his face, but his face fell as he saw her shivering..

"I think it's time to get out of the rain."

For a few moments she looked like she might argue, then she set her drink down and crouched under the flap of the tent.

"Hey, Nick," she grinned. "Let's get out of these wet clothes and burn them."

She peeled off her jacket and boots, and he piled them at the end of the tent. They wouldn't get dry, but at least they wouldn't get any wetter. She wrapped herself in the sleeping bag and gave a sigh of contentment, and Nick was suddenly aware of how small the tent was. He remained half crouched awkwardly above her, until she cracked a eye open and fixed him with a stare. 

"Take that wet old coat off and come lay down. I know how warm those vents get."

"Well, now." He stammered. She mumbled something in return that could have been dirty or could have been an apology, but dissolved into a yawn part way through. Nick lay beside her, and she pressed back into him, wrapping the sleeping bag tightly around them.

He fought the urge to stroke the hair back from her forehead, to plant a soft kiss above her eye. She was a good looking woman, no doubt about it - curvy, a little older, with dark wavy hair and strong arms. And she'd woken something in him, adventure, maybe, or optimism. The feeling that he could try and make the world a better place, without it just being a rerun of Officer Valentine's mistakes.

She'd woken something else in him too. The desire to be around her, that hunger for physical contact - hell, frankly he wanted her to grab his wires and ride him like a bronco. Not like she'd be interested in something like that though, in something like him. That young fellow Garvey seemed interested, and Nick approved.

Sure didn't make a situation like this any easier though, as she rolled round so that her head was under his arm, leg draped over his.

Damn tent was definitely too small.

PJ settled gratefully into the sleeping bag. When she'd first emerged from the vault she hadn't been able to sleep in a bed, use a tool or even pass by a house without wondering obsessively about the fate of the person it had belonged to. She'd soon disabused herself of the habit though. Now, it was enough to be warm and dry, and breathe a silent thanks to the hunter or hiker who had left the shelter behind.

Nick was shuffing awkwardly, and finally she told him to just lay down. She appreciated that he was a gentleman, loved it about him, but there were pre-war manners and then there was letting someone freeze to death. It wasn't as if he'd ever actually shown any interest; more's the pity, she thought ruefully. 

She was very aware of the size of him occupying the small space. It wasn't that he was particularly tall - she was a little taller - and he was sparsely built, like the other gen 2 synths. But somehow he felt... not solid, not with the gaps in his skin, but substantial. His frame didn't bend, his eyes cast light, and when she was close like this she could hear the slight whirring that came from him, as he gave out all that lovely heat... He was good, she thought, so good, and she felt her chest glowing with contentment as she drifted away...

...she was back in Sanctuary Hills, and she could hear the sirens and the panic, but she was PJ not Nora, and she felt nothing but detachment as she stood on the hill behind the vault watching people scurry. She saw the door close over, the flash and the terrible cloud, and then she became aware of Nick beside her. He took her hand as the heat washed over them, and she gripped his metal fingers as the ground shook...

...she was the Director of the Institute, forcing herself to walk calmly along the endess tunnel although her heart was racing inside, fear and sorrow and rage at the monster she'd given birth to. He would kill her without a second's thought if he knew she was also Whisper, and she didn't know what was worse - that knowledge, or the knowledge that if it came to that she would kill him first. Lights flickered, and the ground and the walls seemed to vibrate with the hidden machinery beneath her feet.

Footsteps behind her, picking up pace in time with her own, and with sudden dream logic she knew that they knew, they had sent a synth to bring her in, and as it caught up with her she saw that it was Nick, Nick grabbing her wrist and twisting, using his body weight to force her forward against the wall...

...she was bent forward over his desk at the Agency, aware of his presence behind her. Her breasts pushed against the smooth hard surface, her legs slightly apart, dress up round her waist, and she knew he was drinking her in with those glowing yellow eyes. The shaking and the heat were ever more intense, and she felt his breath on her skin, imagined him spreading her wide open to his gaze and his touch, imagined him kissing and biting and maybe slipping one cold metal finger into her asshole...

A liquid throb of pleasure awoke her with a start.

Although he felt somewhat awkward, once PJ fell asleep Nick mostly focused on keeping still, avoiding disturbing his exhausted companion. It was kind of pleasant, he had to admit, the weight of her and the smell of her hair. He was pretty sure she'd have a sore back when she woke up, no one had designed synths for use as pillows, but he liked knowing that for now he was keeping her warm and comfortable.

To pass the time he mentally reviewed the case so far. Kasumi, and what they'd learned about her, as well as the island itself - he wasn't sure who he trusted less, Acadia or Far Harbor. At least the harbormen were open and upfront about their bad intentions. A shame, really, the Last Plank seemed like it could be a damn fine bar.

His thoughts were disturbed by a sound from PJ. Glancing down, his initial thought was that she was having a bad dream - frowning slightly, little gasps and sighs escaping her lips. He briefly considered waking her, before his eyes were drawn closer, and then he couldn't look away. The way her chest was rising and falling, the flush of her cheeks... all the evidence said that this was no nightmare.

Nick was aware that he vibrated. Ellie had noticed and rather bashfully pointed it out to him, and so, in a much cruder way, had Vadim. It was usually only noticeable when he was at rest, in a quiet location. And at the moment, he was two for two.

Ordinarily it wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world, to be between the legs of a beautiful dame while she was enjoying herself. It was in fact the kind of thing he might have fantasised about once or twice, before they synthetic equivalent of a cold shower - his beloved PJ coming apart at his touch, calling his name. But she had no idea, and Nick was praying that he might shut down right then and there. His mind was racing, trying to decide whether it would be better to pull away and risk waking her, or just to try and keep still...

A low, breathy moan, and suddenly her eyes were looking into his.

PJ felt the unbearably sweet ache in her belly and her cunt, warring with a rapidly rising sense of horror as she realised the position she was in. Grinding against Nick, her beautiful stoic Nick, like he was just some sort of object. The expression on his face was definitely distress, those gorgeous amber eyes wide. She was intensely aware of the pressure of his thigh between her own, the way her breasts were trapped against the smooth hard plane of his chest, and that subtle vibration that sent pleasure shuddering right through her.

Desperate, she tried to pull away, but the sleeping bag had somehow become half trapped beneath both of them, with the result that she simply wriggled against him, increasing the friction and making her feel exactly how wet she was. She bit back a cry, equal parts pleasure, shame and sheer frustration, she was so close and it was so wrong...

"It's ok, sweetheart. I understand. You can, ah, you can finish. I'll look away..."

The low rumble of his voice in his chest really wasn't helping, but PJ forced herself to focus. Typical self-sacrificing Nick, it was as if he thought he meant nothing to her.

"...no." She forced the words between gritted teeth, cheeks burning. "Either we stop, or I want to see your eyes."

"You like my eyes, huh?" He sounded genuinely curious.

"I like all of you." The cautious optimism on his face turned to a genuine grin of delight, and the sight combined with the sensation between her legs brought a sob of pleasure to her lips.

Nick shifted beneath her so that she was fully straddling him, her mound and clit pressed flush against the hard surface of his lower abdomen, tender nipples against his chest. He pressed his lips to her throat, and his hands crept round to cup and support her buttocks as she writhed in his lap.

"You're doing good," he murmured in her ear, and that tipped her over the edge.

"That was louder than I thought," he teased afterwards. "You almost gave those fog crawler things a run for their money."

She elbowed him in the ribs. "I don't think they shout out 'Nick, Nick!'"

"Let's hope it's not some kind of gulper mating call." 

PJ laughed, as what felt like weeks of tension spilled out of her. She took a drag from Nick's cigarette and propped her chin on his chest, watching him thoughtfully.

"Is there anything I could do for you? To... get you off, I mean." 

He looked at her, the cautious optimism back in his face

"Actually, maybe there is... it might have to wait till we're both dried off a little. On some kind of a non-conductive surface."

"Sounds kinky."

Nick grinned, half embarrassed, and looked away.


	4. Make You Feel Mighty Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I just want some bottom Nick smut...

If Nick were still a man, he knew his palms would be sweaty, his chest fluttering. Being a synth made it easier to keep his cool, at least on the outside. Waiting for PJ as she dropped Shaun off with the Longs, he'd fallen into a group by the Sanctuary Bar and Grill which included Cait, and playing it cool was essential.

As the strains of Billy Ward and the Dominoes drifted across the campfire, Preston instead made himself the target.

"When I was a kid, I used to think this song was about the Minutemen. Used to sing it all the time while I pretended a piece of fence post was a laser rifle. Drove my mother crazy..."

Cait cackled. "Would ya rather have one sixty minute man or sixty one minute men?"

Nick joined the laughter, but the sight of PJ approaching brought the apprehension back. Play it cool. He tipped his hat to the group.

"Ladies, gentlemen... Hancock."

"Ah, laugh it up, Nicky," the ghoul mayor drawled, contented with Preston leaning against him. The alliance between Goodneighbor and the Minutemen had brought unexpected personal as well as logistical benefits to his friends, and Nick was about to comment as much to PJ as they passed across the bridge, but she pressed her finger to his lips with a grin.

"No talking, Valentine. Get moving."

"Yes ma'am." He swallowed, clenched his fists against the nonexistent sweat, and headed for the Red Rocket.

He wasn't quite sure where the desire came from, but it surely had something to do with the old Nick. He remembered, back when he'd been a more frequent flyer at the Memory Den, an occasion where Irma had told him that once she was through with him he wouldn't be able to sit down for a week. He'd managed to respond, fired back a quip about liking a dame who kept him on his toes, but really, she'd misunderstood. It wasn't punishment he wanted, or pain, at least not for it's own sake. It was the helplessness, the loss of control, that made Officer Valentine emerge feeling empty and clean, ready to crack wise and crack heads. Although he couldn't directly recall Valentine's memories, the revelations he'd learned from his brother, along with the stresses of laying to rest his twin ghosts of Winter and the Institute, had left Nick with some urges of his own.

"Coat and hat," she commanded. They had reached the bedroom.

She draped his coat over the back of a chair, and placed his hat on her own head. She liked to take trophies, he'd noticed, when they were out in the wasteland. PJ liked it when he ordered her around in bed, liked him pinning her wrists while he whispered in her ear, but when he'd asked her for this she'd looked at him like a cold Nuka on a hot day, and he guessed she'd be good at this.

"Sit on the edge of the bed."

He complied, and she began unfastening his shirt, pushing it back until it was halfway down his arms. She then tied the tails together, pulling the knot tight until his arms were effectively immobilised behind his back. His tie was next, removed and replaced over his eyes as a blindfold.

Nick thought he'd guessed right.

Nick heard the rustling of PJ removing her clothes, felt her settle into his lap, her breasts tantalisingly close to his face as she placed kisses against his blindfolded eyes, running her fingers across his scalp before trailing down the back of his neck. She gave a soft moan of pleasure as her tongue pressed against his exposed mandible.

"Like licking a battery," she whispered, and bit his lower lip as he made to reply. Her mouth moved lower, biting down at the torn edges of his throat before soothing with tongue and teeth. She then blew lightly against the same skin, and the sudden shock of cold made him groan.

She didn't seem to want him to talk, but making noise was apparently alright. Not that he thought he'd have much choice the way things were going. He was pushed gently backwards until he was lying fully on the bed, and the strain it put on his arms contrasted wonderfully with the pleasure as she stroked his exposed torso, tracing the joins between his surfaces, dipping her tongue into the little indentation the Institute had chosen to give him in place of a navel. He'd always thought it was strange for a creature who had never been born, but Nick could no longer bring himself to care.

His groans of pleasure were cut off by an abrupt cry as PJ suddenly thrust her fingers through an area of damage, brushing against the wires of his sensory plexus. She was the first person apart from himself to ever touch inside him that way. He'd had other partners in his time, but none he'd trusted like this, and she was the only one he'd shown how to do it. It made him feel so full, and it hurt, but it was so good, to belong to her so completely... She plucked one of his wires from its socket, and he yelped.

"Too much?" she asked, and paused.

"No," he managed to gasp. "Just... just the right amount, sweetheart."

She went to work in earnest, fingers penetrating right to his core, tracing metalwork with a fingernail, wiggling wires in their sockets before pulling them out altogether. Simultaneously she scratched and licked stripes along his skin, alternately numb and hypersensitive. He groaned and writhed, bucking his hips, hoping and fearing that it might last forever.

Finally the last wire was out, and he lay back gasping.

"Hips,", PJ said, delivering a slap to his side, and he complied, arching his back so that she was able to pull his slacks down to his knees, before refastening the belt around his knees, forcing his legs together. He felt the bed shift as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"You look good, Nick. All tied up and falling apart."

"Gotta look my best for my best gal."

"I like you best when you're screaming. Want me to put you back together again?" As she casually reached inside his neck to stroke his spine, all he could manage was a choked nod of assent.

"Well, you'll have to do something for me first. Put that smart mouth to good use."

Nick moaned with delight as she settled onto his face.

Nick loved to use his mouth on PJ. The flush of pink against her olive skin always put him in mind of a fig; although he'd never seen one, the previous Nick had considered them a rare delicacy. His senses were overwhelmed by her, nothing but her smell and her taste, the sound of her moans and gasps as she rode his face. He could picture her face, the way she would be playing with her nipples, and he squirmed, desperate for her touch, as her taste grew stronger and slicker. Finally she cried out, and her fingers dug painfully into his thighs.

To his delight, she kept her word, and he felt the pleasure-pain as she leaned over him and reconnected his wires one by one, skin and feeding him a rush of the information he'd been denied, sending him closer and closer to the edge.

"Come in my mouth, Detective," she purred as she slid the last wire home, and the sudden feel of her breath against the exquisitely sensitive skin of his groin had him crying out wordless and helpless, as he bucked his hips and grabbed the mattress so hard his metal fingers went right through.

Nick felt in a daze afterwards, vaguely aware of PJ undressing him properly and covering him with a blanket. He'd had a brief moment of not being sure which body he was in, the human or his own. It was something he hadn't experienced in a long time, and it made him feel a bit tearful, if he'd had tears. He listened to the turrets chugging and the water splashing from the pump, and gradually came back to himself. PJ gave him a cup of coolant and he drank gratefully, the illusion over. She lit a smoke, taking a drag herself to get it going before handing it to him and moving to turn on the radio. 'Rocket 69' was playing, and she frowned.

"Do you ever feel like Travis is watching us?"

Nick said nothing. He felt as if his contentment was radiating out of him, spreading far and wide and mingling with the contentment of settlements, Minutemen and traders all over the Commonwealth, safe and secure thanks to the incredible woman at the epicentre of everything, the woman he loved and who loved him, the woman who was now leaning over him.

"You ok there Nick? I didn't make you blow a fuse, did I?" She sounded half concerned, half smug.

"Get in here, doll face," Nick replied, lifting the blanket beside him.


	5. 3, 6, 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: So I recently stumbled across that caravan on the hill behind Medford Memorial Hospital, and it got me thinking. 
> 
> Who is into classy prewar stuff, classical music, and seems like he'd be pretty romantic? Nick does. 
> 
> Please write me a fic in which Nick has set the caravan up for a surprise evening of flowers, wine and deathclaw steak, followed by sweet love making. 
> 
> Would slightly prefer f!sole, or Ellie, but hey good writing is always sexy. 
> 
> Bonus points for incorporating as many of the details of the setting as possible, although maybe not the sentry bot, that's not romantic. Having said that, super bonus points if you do somehow manage to include it.

It was strange, Nick mused. You spend your whole life, maybe multiple lifetimes, resigning yourself to something that's never going to happen; then some dame in a vault suit waltzes into your life and before you know it you're kicking Eddie Winter to death with a pair of pre-war wingtips buffed specially for the occasion. 

Then you fall in love, build yourselves a house in easy commuting distance from the Castle and the Agency, and... well. Before you know it, you're flapping your gums about certain other things you'd always wanted to try. And the dame gets that slightly scary light in her eyes and says yes.

PJ had provided security, in the form of a sentrybot she'd borrowed from Isabel. The General of the Minutemen, the Mayor of Goodneighbor and the Great Synth Detective, he thought wryly. Probably the closest thing the Commonwealth had to celebrities. It wouldn't do to be disturbed. In return, Nick had set the scene a little. Flowers, candles, music. The deathclaw steak that PJ favoured, and plenty of wine to keep Hancock interested.

Hancock had provided himself. A firm friend, adventurous, discreet in spite of his flamboyance. Nick had always admired Hancock's passion, his refusal to take the world on anything other than his own terms. And damn, the man knew how to dress. It could have been a crush, if not for Nick's state of mind back when he and Hancock had been closest.

The candles were burning low and the meal was winding down. Talk was of old friends and the latest happenings at the Third Rail, but Nick wasn't really following. His sensors were tingling like before a radstorm, and he couldn't stop stealing glances at his companions. PJ wearing that Nuka-girl suit she knew he liked; a throwaway joke while they were fighting for their lives in that godforsaken theme park, but she'd remembered, he thought with a surge of love. And Hancock, with his large dark eyes and dangerous grin, the light catching the open collar of his shirt just so... Hell, why not admit, it was definitely a crush.

PJ rested her hand on his thigh.

"You ok, Nick?" she murmured, and he nodded. She finished her glass and cocked an eyebrow. "Hancock?"

"No time like the present." The ghoul got to his feet and extended a hand to Nick. With PJs hand comforting in the small of his back, they made their way towards the bed.

Nick felt the edge of the bed at his knees and sat, and they perched either side of him. PJ pushed the trenchcoat back from his shoulders, fingers teasing the torn side of his throat before delicately loosening his tie. Hancock contented himself with watching, hands resting on Nick's thighs. Nick felt as though he was being displayed as PJ worked his shirt open, baring his skin to Hancocks appreciative gaze. It made his chest feel tight, but it felt good. 

Nick's breath caught in his throat as Hancock went to his knees in front of him, unfastening his shoes and slipping them off. He felt PJ's arms around his waist as she eased behind him and began to work his belt buckle open, her breasts pressing into his back. Before long, they had him naked apart from his hat, on his back on the bed between them, feeling vulnerable as hell and loving every second of it.

"Beautiful," Hancock rasped, reaching out and stroking Nick's belly. He gasped.

"It's true," PJ whispered in his ear, before capturing him in a deep kiss. As she kissed him, he felt Hancock's fingers exploring, tracing the planes and joins of his silicone muscles. He scraped the frayed edge of his abdomen, and Nick moaned.

"Like that?" Hancock teased. Before he could reply, PJ began to lick the worn metal of his jaw.

"Y-yeah," he managed when he could speak again. "Like that."

They took their time, and Nick felt that they were kissing and caressing every inch of him, rendering him helpless to do much more than lie back and take it, groaning with pleasure, hands flexing. He was intensely aware of PJ's nipples, stiff little peaks beneath the fabric of her spacesuit, and of the hot hard mass between Hancock's legs.

"I want you now," PJ breathed, and Nick could only nod and swallow. 

The harness she helped him into was black leather, the rubber cock attached a rather odd shade of blue.

"You couldn't find a better match for the colour?"

"Oh I'm sorry Nick," PJ smirked, "I guess there was just too much choice at the Post-Apocalyptic Dildo Warehouse."

Hancock cackled. "I gotta tell Daisy to change the name of her store."

PJ was still laughing as she slipped out of her little shorts. She held Nick's eyes with her own as she straddled him, easing herself down until she'd taken it all. He couldn't feel anything with it, but the knowledge of how wet she must be made him growl and squirm with lust. 

An answering growl drew his attention, and he looked over to see Hancock leaning back on his elbows, flag untied and breeches around his knees, stroking his cock as he gazed at the point where their bodies joined. He caught Nick's eye and licked his lips, before returning his attention to their bodies as PJ began to ride him.

The sight of her taking her pleasure, the repetitive slk-slk-slk sound of Hancock masturbating beside him, the smell of sex in the air... it was overwhelming. Nick felt his spine tingling, chest tightening, the familiar liquid heat in his belly and thighs. His hips began to buck, and he reached up and cupped PJ's buttocks, bringing her down to meet him as she brought herself to orgasm with a wailing cry.

They kissed, and she rolled off him, caressing his shoulder gently, giving him permission. Nick thought he had never been more turned on in his life.

He turned to Hancock.

Nick felt oddly aware of his size and strength as a synth as he knelt over Hancock. He gripped the ghoul's hips, pinning him down as he bent his head forward. Quickly, not allowing himself to take too much time to think about it, he pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock. 

"Oh Nick," Hancock practically purred, "you sure know how to show a Mayor a good time..."

"Shut up," Nick moaned, before parting his lips and taking Hancock deeper into his mouth. He tasted sour and musky, the texture like soft old leather stretched over something hot and hard and immensely exciting. To a groan of appreciation from PJ, he began to bob his head. He felt her hands on the back of his neck, guiding him downwards, as Hancock's hands joined hers and captured his head.

He was having his face fucked. The sudden thought made him burn with shame, but she shame brought a deep throbbing pleasure to his groin. He experimented a little, allowing Hancock to thrust down his throat, then through the hole in his jaw. He traced the scar tissue with his tongue, causing Hancock to gasp and hiss. 

PJ slipped her and through the break in his abdomen, teasing his wires and jacking his spine the way he liked. The sensation of being penetrated by her as Hancock used his mouth was too much, and he began to shiver and moan.

"Nick, fuck!" Hancock gasped, and then his load was in Nick's mouth, salty and warm, running down his throat both inside and out...

...It was too much, and Nick groaned, curling in on himself, almost sobbing with frustration as his hands gripped between his legs and squeezed, breathless and desperate.

"I need... I need..." He groaned and cried out as Hancock took his wrists firmly and stretched him out, allowing PJ to straddle him once more, pinning him down before she slipped her fingers into his sockets, sliding wires home with agonising precision until she had him almost shrieking with relief as he came.

"I love you Nick," she whispered, kissing and soothing him into her embrace.

"Love ya Nicky," Hancock added, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before padding off to the other side of the caravan. A discreet hiss and the faint acrid smell of jet, and he returned, bearing a jug of water, a can of coolant, and the last of the wine.

They dozed and ran diagnostics intermittently until morning, when they wrapped themselves in blankets and sat in door of the caravan, making a breakfast of mutfruit and cigarettes as they watched the sun rise.


End file.
